


stormchaser

by YouAreMyDesign



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Begging, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Will Graham, Breeding, Breeding Kink, Come Swallowing, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Dark Will Graham, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Facials, Frottage, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Knotting, M/M, Marks, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Omega Will Graham, Oral Knotting, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Possessive Behavior, Rutting, Scent Kink, Self-Lubrication, Spanking, Top Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham Knows, Will Graham is a Cannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 17:04:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18877453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign
Summary: One thing, Hannibal knows absolutely; Will is empty, all the time. He aches to be filled.





	stormchaser

Three years ago, Hannibal would have scoffed at the idea that he would ever take a mate. He is too other, too content with his life, to accommodate another within it, let alone something as needy and cumbersome as a mate. His dalliances with omegas or betas that struck his fancy provided physical relief when he desired it, but other than that he was content to remain lord of his home and hearth, and completely alone within it.

Until, Will.

Ah, Love. He either pays you a visit or he doesn't.

Will is perfect. It has been three years since Hannibal finally got his teeth in Will's neck, and Will still manages to knock the breath from Hannibal's body most days, with his lovely summer-sky eyes, his ever-bared canines. The way he drawls Hannibal's name when he's feeling playful, the way blood makes his eyes shine when they spill it between them.

Will is his perfect counterpart, in every way Hannibal could imagine. He's an animal, a wild creature that some old god must have seen fit to bestow upon Hannibal for whatever great sins and deeds he has committed throughout his life. Will is strong, a powerful man, submissive when he cares to be, wild and thrashing when the mood strikes. Even in heat, Hannibal must work hard to overpower him, and it soothes the rabid monster in his own chest, to know his mate is so fierce, so unswervingly, unrepentantly savage when the mood strikes.

Of course, Will has his other moods, too. His whims come like rain, sometimes building up for days on the horizon before the sky breaks open; sometimes fleeting, refreshing and wonderful. This particular storm has been building for a while – Hannibal knows Will well enough to know when it's happening. Can monitor his tics and shifts in mood like he might watch the scratch, dip and bob of lines on a lie detector.

Hannibal knows when it's happening, but Will reacts very badly to being pushed, to being forced to confess and fall to his knees before his time. He enjoys toying with Hannibal's patience, though Hannibal has found that Will is the most common, and often times, only, exception to his rules of grace and character.

Will is rude. Will is wild. Hannibal adores him.

When Will's need overcomes his pride, he comes to Hannibal – ready to crawl, to show his belly. To beg, if Hannibal demands it. And he may – Will's temperament has been terribly sour the past few days, and Hannibal's patience, however much it stretches for Will, is growing thin. But Will knows Hannibal will give him what he needs – he just has to ask.

It will happen today. Hannibal is always aware of his mate, feels Will's presence like warm sun on his face, as he putters around the kitchen, preparing the fish he had caught for them earlier. Hannibal had been sure to reward his sweet mate for his catch, purring loudly and nuzzling Will until Will turned away from him and commanded he go sit and read, go entertain himself, while Will cooked.

Hannibal's domain is normally the kitchen, but exceptions can be made for Will. Always.

He can be patient, now that he knows it's coming. He is the crocodile hidden just below the surface of the river, eyes open and peeking above the water. He can be the lion curled up in long grasses, watching the herd graze.

He blinks, once, when he hears the oven beep. Listens to Will pulling the fish from the oven and setting the tray atop the burners with a small graze of metal to metal. Listens to him pause, and sigh, and cover the fish.

He washes his hands. Hannibal can feel his sharp, all-seeing eyes on the side of his face. Hears him huff, and fights down a smile as Will approaches him, prowling and graceful on silent feet. Will is a charmer, a fisherman who can make the most alluring bait out of himself – a snake in the grass capable of coiling up tight and suffocating his prey, but in Hannibal's hands he plays himself soft and sweet when it suits him.

Hannibal lets his smile show, turns his head when Will's fingertips trail over his shoulder, along the back of his neck. "Food's ready," Will murmurs, but makes no move back towards the kitchen. His dogs are locked outside in the garden, so they need not fear their quarry being stolen.

Will's eyes are dark, today, stormy and wide and altogether more black than any other color. A fine ring of gold surrounds his pupil, turning his iris green in places. Hannibal could draw his eyes for a thousand years and never quite capture every shade within them.

Hannibal smiles, lifts his hand and takes Will's wrist in his fingers, watches his sweet mate shiver, his lips parting, when Hannibal kisses his knuckles. "I'm not terribly hungry, darling," he murmurs. Will nods, like he expected this. Hannibal sets his book to one side, tugs on Will and lets himself slouch in his large, comfortable chair, knees parting as Will circles it.

Will's nostrils flare, his jaw bulges at the corner. His fingers curl. A dead giveaway.

Hannibal's smile widens. "Why don't you come keep me company for a while?"

Will swallows, licking his lips. His shoulders roll, drop low. His head bows, just an inch, tilts like he's considering lunging distance. _Easy now_.

"Hannibal," he breathes.

Hannibal shakes his head, tuts, and tugs Will closer. "No, darling, that's not what you call me. Not on days like this." Will lets out a sweet, soft whine, unbidden. It's a dance they know well by now, as intimate as any waltz, as passionate as a tango.

Will's lips twitch, like he's surprised at how well Hannibal can read him – his poor, neglected mate, he had so often had to hide pieces of himself from the sheep of the world, had to posture and pretend he was something other than the pure creature of raw, primal instinct that he is.

He steps around the chair arm and slides into Hannibal's lap easily, knees digging into the leather on either side of Hannibal's hips. He leans in, nose and mouth pressed to Hannibal's neck, breathing in raggedly to fill his lungs with Hannibal's scent.

One thing, Hannibal knows absolutely; Will is empty, all the time. He aches to be filled.

Hannibal gives him a moment, lets his scent soothe and calm Will, purrs and lets his pheromones sink into Will's mind and ease him into that soft, limp place omegas can go so that they can bear their alpha's cruelty and power. Will's body sags, goes lax like clockwork, his shoulders dropping again, this time in surrender, and he lets out a quiet, needy whine.

"Good boy," Hannibal praises, and pets through his hair. He bites Will's ear gently as he feels the last pieces of tension leave Will's body. He combs his fingers through Will's wild hair, knuckles catching in the knots and tangles, gently tugging them loose. Will likes his hair being pulled, and he whimpers against Hannibal's neck, hands finding his shoulders and gripping tightly, rhythmically, like a kneading cat.

"That's it, darling," Hannibal purrs, as Will answers with one of his own. He'll get drunk on Hannibal's pheromones if they let him. Hannibal wants to let him – wants to see his beautiful mate black-eyed and red-cheeked, wants him lax and sore and sated. "Relax for me. I'll take care of you."

Will nods, pulling back so Hannibal can see his face. He rests their foreheads together, noses brushing, bites his lower lip to stifle a whine as Hannibal grips his nape. His other hand thumbs at Will's lower lip, forcing him to release it from his teeth.

"Please," he whispers.

Hannibal smiles, and tilts his head. "Please…?"

Will's cheeks flush with heat, and he looks down. But he's smiling, playing the part of coy, nervous omega easily. His fingers twitch and tremble, his gaze lifts, and lowers again. "Please, daddy," he whispers. "I want you to take care of me."

Hannibal smiles, letting Will see his approval. "Good boy," he purrs, and pulls Will closer to him, one hand flattening warm and wide on Will's back, raking down with nails through his shirt. Will shivers, arching closer, lips parted as he starts to pant.

He turns his head, nudging Will into a single, chaste kiss that Will moans into. "Beautiful," he whispers, and Will's blush darkens, instinctively pleased and proud to be called so. He shows his teeth in his smile, lashes fluttering as Hannibal brings their hips together, lets him grind and rut as much as he pleases.

His hands slide to Hannibal's hair, toying with it as he does when he wants something. "Kiss me, my sweet boy," he commands, and Will eagerly obeys, leaning forward and cupping Hannibal's face, kissing him passionately. Will kisses like he can summon fire in his chest, like it will burn him if he doesn't kiss hard enough, cannot press it into Hannibal's skin. His kiss holds an intensity one might have at the end of the world, as though this would be his last, and he is determined to make it the best thing he ever does.

Hannibal lets him, relishing Will's passion, able to smell the arousal and desire in Will. Will licks into his mouth, behind his sensitive teeth, earning a snarl wrung deep from Hannibal's chest. He bites down on Will's lower lip, making him whine, his weight shifting and the scent of his slick growing thick and sweet in the air between them.

Not yet. Easy now.

He pulls back, smiling when Will whines, tugging on his nape petulantly. "Be good, Will," he purrs, watching Will's eyes open, blink slowly, black with desire. He thumbs Will's jaw tenderly, slides his hand down to his mate's neck to feel his rushing pulse. "Get on your knees, darling."

Will smiles, and obeys with another eager sound, pushing himself from Hannibal's lap and sinking gracefully to his knees between Hannibal's thighs. His hands spread out wide across them and he looks at Hannibal like a worshipper might look at their god.

Hannibal sighs, so supremely pleased at the sight. "So beautiful," he murmurs, brushing a hand through Will's hair. "My sweet boy. Are you hungry?"

"Always," Will replies, and it's true – Will is insatiable, be it blood, flesh, Hannibal. He wants it all, wants not to be empty, if only for a little while.

Hannibal sits forward, tugs Will upright so he can kiss his forehead, and nuzzles his hair. Breathes in, and growls; "Take me out."

Will's shaking hands slide in, unfasten Hannibal's suit pants button and zipper as Hannibal sits back, giving him room. He lifts his hips and lets Will pull them down, along with his underwear, baring his hardening cock. Will whines, lips parted to show his slick tongue, his wet mouth, and he stares up at Hannibal, wide-eyed and wanting.

Hannibal uses the hand in Will's hair to pull him in, sighing, closing his eyes and tipping his head back when Will swallows him down.

Will moans around him, tilting his head so Hannibal, when he opens his eyes, can see a flash of his lovely irises, a sweet slip of his teeth when he pulls his lips back and sucks hard. He draws in a harsh breath, tugging on Will's hair hard enough to get Will to pull off him. "Keep your mouth open," he commands, and Will whines, but obeys, watching ravenously as Hannibal touches himself. He strokes himself to orgasm, coming on Will's outstretched tongue, up over his nose, wetting his fluttering lashes, his forehead, dripping down his cheeks. He pulls Will down to feed him the rest and Will moans raggedly, sinking down onto Hannibal's softening cock and swallowing what Hannibal gives him.

Without knotting, Hannibal will be able to get hard again quickly enough. Hannibal has plans – the storm clouds have gathered, fit to burst, the rumble of thunder that sounds like Will's purr, the lightning on the horizon that is the flashes of his beautiful black eyes. Oh, how Hannibal loves Will when he looks at him like that.

Will pulls back again, breathing raggedly. How he can still look so innocent and coy, covered in Hannibal's come and licking it from his lips, Hannibal has no idea – such is the power of Will's designs. He smiles, takes in another deep breath, and gently presses his lips to Will's forehead, licking a string of his own come from Will's heated skin.

"I'll let you decide, my love," he purrs, and Will perks up, attentive; "I can take you up to bed, bruise and mark your lovely neck while I mount you, or you can keep your mouth open and take my knot behind your teeth."

Will whimpers, the sound so raw Hannibal scents him, making sure Will is still alright. He looks dazed already, delirious, drunk, his mouth open and body thrumming with indecision. It's difficult, for someone like Will – he is so desperate, always, for Hannibal; desires Hannibal's bite and his knot and wants to be filled in any way he can get. Aches for his teeth, moans for his cock; ravenous, insatiable, his Will.

Will shifts his weight again, whines, and presses his face into Hannibal's hands. "I need you to fuck me," he confesses. "Need -. Need your teeth. _Please_ , daddy."

Hannibal smiles, and lets Will go, pushing himself to his feet and correcting his clothes. "Go upstairs and get ready for me, darling," he says gently. Will blinks up at him, marked and wild, and nods, pushing himself upright. He doesn't nuzzle Hannibal, knowing Hannibal will not tolerate any mess on his clothes, and goes meekly to the stairs.

Hannibal busies himself in the kitchen, wrapping the fish and putting it in the fridge. He opens one of the windows to air out the smell, and checks the locks on all the doors and windows, unable to fight down the instinct to make sure his den, and his mate within it, is safe and secure.

He checks that the oven is turned off, as well – Will has been distracted all day, caught up in the gusts and buffeting wind of his storm, ready to break and rain down upon Hannibal. Hannibal trusts him not to be stupid, but distraction can lead to unfortunate mistakes.

The oven is off, and Hannibal nods to himself, pleased. He prowls upstairs.

He can already smell Will, wet and ready for him, his sweet scent overpowering all else as Hannibal steps into their bedroom and closes the door behind him. He turns off the light, so only the bedside lamp illuminates the room, illuminates Will – Will, golden and shining with sweat already, like he's in heat, cast in sharp shadows that make him look eager and young. Hannibal's body compels him forward, eager to warm his hands and mouth on this bare creature, pelt and clothes shed, ready to be taken.

"In all my life, I have never seen something as beautiful as you," he breathes, for he cannot deny it, and cannot help himself saying it. He runs a hand up Will's back, cradling the dip of his spine until he reaches the nape of Will's neck. Will blushes, arching up into the touch, on his elbows and knees and slick shining between his thighs.

Hannibal smiles, rubbing his fingers through the shine on Will's skin, bringing them to his waiting mouth and sucking them clean. An omega's slick causes a chemical reaction in an alpha, like an alpha can manipulate an omega with pheromones and the hormones in their saliva; slick gives alphas the will and stamina to knot, entices them to mate, embeds the scent of that omega into the alpha's head as something to claim and protect and provide for.

Hannibal had loved Will well before he ever tasted him like this, but now he knows he would kill to keep Will safe – would kill just for the pleasure of it, if it made Will smile. He feels it in his soul, or perhaps somewhere deeper that only Will can see.

"Thank you," Will murmurs, looking over his shoulder as Hannibal kneels behind him, fingers gently circling Will's rim, eyes ravenous on Will's bared flesh. Will presses back into his touch and says, soft and sweet and teasing; "You're wearing too many clothes."

Hannibal huffs, and leans down to kiss Will's back, before he rises from the bed. Were Will in heat, Hannibal would not let himself linger – he would bare just enough of himself to get inside of his mate, because Will likes the dichotomy of clothes versus skin, relishes the cling of his sweat to Hannibal's fine suits, loves the idea that Hannibal is too impatient, or Will too irresistible, to wait.

But there's something very decadent about touching Will bare, able to feel every inch of skin against skin, of knowing Will's scent will be a part of his own, by the end.

Hannibal returns to his mate when he's naked, pushes at Will's shoulders until Will is on his back. "Let me see you, my love," he purrs, and Will nods, pressing his lips together and arching up, shameless and wanton. "Oh, Will," he whispers, petting down Will's spread thighs. "I confess, darling – I might end up using every piece of you."

Will whines, at that.

"Beg me," Hannibal commands. Will's lashes flutter, his breath leaves him in an urgent, impatient snarl. He shows his teeth and fixes Hannibal with a sharp look. "Come, now, my sweet boy," Hannibal coaxes, smiling widely when Will whines. "Tell me."

Will sucks in a hard breath. "Please, daddy," he whispers, pawing at Hannibal's chest. "I'll do whatever you want, I'll be good, just _please_. Fuck me."

Hannibal shivers, upper lip twitching back to show his teeth. "Good boy," he whispers, pushing himself onto his knees so he can crawl closer between Will's spread legs. He can smell Will, the sweet, thick scent of his slick, and he reaches down and pushes into Will with two fingers, curling them up to tease at the pressure of a knot and graze Will's sensitive insides. Will whimpers, spasming around him, tilts his head back to show his neck and pants to the ceiling. His fingers curl into claws on Hannibal's chest, raking through the hair there, his hips arching and thighs shaking as Hannibal teases him.

His chest heaves, his stomach sinks in, eyes glowing with gold as he moans. Hannibal grips his nape tightly, pulls Will up and kisses him, letting his fingers slip out.

"I won't tease you, darling," he murmurs. Thought it is a delightful pastime, Hannibal's patience has finally run out. He grips his cock and presses it to Will's slick rim, pushing into him with one smooth, powerful thrust.

Will's legs rise, wrapping around his waist tightly, urging him in, deeper. Sometimes Will loses himself to his storm too readily, gets so out of his mind with need that he can't tell Hannibal when he's being too rough, when Will is in pain, so Hannibal cups his face and watches his eyes, watches Will's face tense, and then relax, a soft sigh slipping from the space between his lips as Hannibal presses as deep as he can go, until Will's tight, wet body surrounds him completely.

Will moans, a desperate noise stuck behind his teeth as he tilts his head back, Hannibal braced over him and leaning down to nose at Will's exposed neck. "You feel wonderful, darling, as always," he purrs, soothing Will's tremors with his free hand, placating and praising him because his darling boy is always so hungry for it. Will likes making Hannibal happy.

He likes it when Hannibal talks, but Hannibal is struck mute as Will clenches up around him, writhing like a man possessed as Hannibal starts to mount him in earnest. Hannibal snarls against his neck, his teeth itching, mouth dry, aching to bite into his sweet mate's flesh and taste him at the heart. He loves how desperate Will gets, how his chest heaves with hard, unsteady breaths, his fingers gripping Hannibal's shoulders tightly.

Hannibal wants to melt into him, to cover him completely. He snarls softly, licks up the column of Will's throat until he finds the sweet spot – high, right below Will's ear, the skin pink and stained with sweat. He opens his mouth wide and sucks, pleased at the shivery growl Will lets out, Will's nails clawing at Hannibal's nape and hair. He will leave a peppering of dark bruises behind, bites and scars for Will to wear proudly.

Will whimpers, exposes his neck for Hannibal's teeth, clamps up viciously around his cock as Hannibal fucks him. "That's it," Hannibal snarls, and plants his hands on Will's hips, holds him still so that he can do nothing but lay there and take it. Will growls, raking his nails down Hannibal's back, leaving marks of his own – a glimpse of Will's savagery, rearing its head, incensed by having his alpha fuck him so harshly. By the end of it, Hannibal is sure he will be covered by Will's claws, marked and claimed as obviously as the teeth marks he will leave behind on Will's neck.

"Daddy," Will breathes, gasping as Hannibal licks down his neck, over his jaw, catching some of the clinging come on Will's face and swallowing it with another growl. "Please. _Hannibal_."

He does not purr it, does not tease – he cries Hannibal's name, ragged and raw. Hannibal rears up, admiring the collar of bruises just beginning to form on Will's neck from his bites, standing out in stark splotches of red and purple on his flushed, sweaty skin. He leans down to lay another mark, more teeth this time, trapping the skin and worrying it just shy of painful, just the way Will likes, and groans at the answering clench of Will's body around him.

Will's nails dig into the small of his back, urging him deeper. "Please," he whispers. Hannibal rises again, drags his nails down Will's throat and turns his head, lays another sucking kiss under Will's jaw where no clothes or hair could possibly hide it.

Will lets out a filthy little moan, tilts his head back as far as he can to make room. When they'd first met, Will had been private, closed-off and shy about making eye contact, let alone letting Hannibal mark him for all the world to see. Now he craves it, wears Hannibal's marks brazenly and doesn't care who notices, who comments on them. Let them dare.

He fucks in harder, the thought of Will ripping into an unsuspecting bigot setting that hot-edged desire at the base of his spine alight, roaring like a wildfire up his back. Finally, the heat of Will threatens to burn him alive. Will is shivering beneath him, sweet and wild with arousal.

He licks over Will's neck and snarls into his ear, fisting his hair tightly; "Are you close, darling?" Will whimpers, and nods. "Oh, sweet boy, that’s good. Don't fight it, Will – let go."

Will moans, tightening his legs around Hannibal's waist. He doesn't need to touch himself most of the time when Hannibal mounts him, gets enough friction against the bed or their bellies for him to achieve orgasm. He trusts Hannibal to get him there, to get the both of them so high off each other that their orgasms crash down on them with all the certainty of a rockslide.

"I want…" Will's breath hitches, his ass clenching with another gush of slick as it leaks out and soaks Hannibal's cock and thighs. His eyes open, meet Hannibal's, wide and staring. He pets, so tenderly it feels like a burn, over Hannibal's cheek. "I want to come on your knot. _Please_ , daddy, come inside me."

Hannibal growls, leans down and fits his teeth wide around Will's neck and bites hard. Will cries out sweetly, and Hannibal rears up, grabbing Will's wrists and pinning them to the bed above his head. He fucks in deeply, chasing the urge at the base of his spine to get as deep into Will as he can, to flood Will until he's as full as he can be.

"Say it again," he snarls, snapping his teeth when Will whines, tries to lean up, to kiss him and placate him. "Tell me what I want to hear, Will. Right now."

Will's eyes flash and widen, instinct in him demanding he obey Hannibal's orders without question. He swallows and licks his lips, leans up and smears his dirty cheek, his forehead, his jaw along Hannibal's neck. Hannibal lets his wrists go, so that he can grab.

"Come inside me, daddy," he breathes, his hands turning gentle and warm on Hannibal's flanks, holding him up as Hannibal shivers, slows – so close, almost, _almost_. "I want you to fill me up." Hannibal snarls, shows his teeth, and Will meets his eyes. Smiles, sharp and wide, purrs and licks between Hannibal's teeth. "Do it – don't let me leave this room without your pup in my belly."

 _Oh_. Hannibal freezes, and can't stop himself now. Will knows just how to lure him, how to catch him and haul him out of the water. He slams into Will once more, presses their foreheads together, his knot swelling as Will clenches around him, arches, eager and ready.

He flattens a hand on Will's neck. "Look at me," he demands, and Will swallows, blinks slowly, meets Hannibal's eyes steadily, though his breathing is harsh. Hannibal trembles, a full-body thing, and kisses Will with teeth as his knot swells up, catches behind Will's rim, locking them together.

Will moans, grinding up frantically to encourage Hannibal's knot to swell inside him, as big and deep as it can go. He whines – a hollow, aching thing that Hannibal feels against every part of his exposed skin. It makes him want to roar, to bite Will bloody and break him apart from the inside.

Will sucks in a shaky breath, his hands sliding up Hannibal's back, calming his tremors as Hannibal starts to come, flooding him with his seed. He leans up and licks at Hannibal's mouth in supplication – appeasement. He plays the charming snake so well, knows exactly what he's doing to Hannibal, and Hannibal is helpless to resist it. He cradles Will's nape, fingers dragging through his sweaty hair, and kisses him deeply.

Will is softer, now, his storm clouds chased away. Gone is the antsy aggression that has plagued him over the last few days – he licks at Hannibal's mouth like a submissive wolf, purring lightly as he pets down Hannibal's arms, up over his shoulders, through his hair.

"That was wonderful, darling," Hannibal breathes, his voice hoarse from growling as he nuzzles Will's sweet mouth, kisses his pink cheeks. Will shivers, smiling widely, and Hannibal answers in kind. He lowers a hand to Will's hard, neglected cock, strokes him once as Will bucks up and whines.

He shakes his head frantically, grips Hannibal's wrist and pulls him off. "No," he says, sharp. "Not yet."

Hannibal raises his brows, tilts his head.

"I want you to knot my mouth, too," Will says.

Oh, whatever Hannibal did in his past life to earn Will, it must have been truly remarkable. Hannibal draws in a shuddering breath, presses his lips together as though thinking – as if he has any semblance of control over the situation now. Will always gets what he wants.

"Well," he says mildly, "you have been very well behaved. I think you've earned that."

Will huffs a laugh, smug and pleased, and wraps his fingers in Hannibal's hair. "Thank you, daddy," he purrs, and pulls Hannibal up to kiss him again. Hannibal's knot lasts for a few more moments, and then he pulls back. It will take a moment before Hannibal can give Will what he wants, and his throat burns with the desire to taste him.

"Hands and knees, darling," he murmurs, and guides Will into the classic mounting position. Will submits to it eagerly, thighs spread and chest to the sheets, his thighs slick and shining, his back red, his cock hanging hard and thick between his legs.

Will whines, gripping the sheets, as Hannibal spreads his hands out wide and bares Will's pink, slick rim to his greedy gaze. He tuts, falsely disappointed. "If you stand, darling, you'll make a terrible mess." Will shivers, thighs trembling.

He brings a hand down, sharply, on Will's ass, causing him to cry out and jerk, his hole clenching up tightly in shock. He spasms, groaning, rubbing his dirty face against the sheets as Hannibal spanks him again, on the other side. Hannibal does it again, and again, until Will's ass starts to grow rosy, then red.

"I've always thought red was such a lovely color on you," he says, almost to himself, as Will whimpers and groans, his scent turning sharp with pain as Hannibal hits him. "Blood, blush – my teeth. I would paint you red every day if I could." He hits Will again, hears him cry out plaintively, stuck with nowhere to run since Hannibal is gripping him so tightly. "Don't worry, darling – I'll make sure you're tight enough that nothing leaks out. You'll leave this room pregnant, I promise."

Will howls, dragging his own nails across the nape of his neck, shuddering and arching up like a rutting beast as Hannibal continues to hit him, palms wide and stinging as he spanks Will until, true to his word, Will is so tight that nothing comes out – not slick, not come. Will's body is greedy, thirsty, soaking wet but possessive of the mess Hannibal left inside him.

Will turns his head, cheek to the bed, showing Hannibal the marks on his throat, making the monster in Hannibal's chest roar with possessive pleasure, seeing his mate so utterly ruined beneath his hands. He lays another series of hard smacks to Will's tender flesh, pinking his skin and making him flare with heat.

Then, he leans in, and flattens his tongue wide over Will's hole, licking clean the mess that had spilled out of him. Will lets out a weak, pathetic-sounding groan at the sensation, entire body shivering with want, and pulls at the sheets savagely. They might tear. Hannibal wonders if he could. He licks his mate clean, purring at the mixed taste of Will's sweet slick and his own come, pleased and proud to taste himself so thoroughly embedded in his mate.

Then, he pulls back, and places three hard, heavy smacks against Will's tender rim. Will cries out, wrecked and ragged, and reaches back to stop him laying a fourth. "Hannibal," he groans, cock twitching. "Mm, fuck, please –."

Hannibal pauses, and kisses his sweaty spine. "Take your time, darling," he murmurs, as Will trembles and moans beneath his weight. Will turns his head, blinks rapid-fire. Hannibal can and has spanked Will to orgasm before, so he doesn't mind being asked to stop – clearly whatever design is in Will's head, he wants to wait.

He presses his weight over Will, purrs and nuzzles him when Will whines. "Wait here, darling," he murmurs, and rises. He hurries to the kitchen, ignoring the tug in his chest compelling him to return to Will. In the fridge is a cluster of grapes that he takes, and puts in a bowl, before returning to his mate.

Will stirs, sore and shivering, and Hannibal climbs into bed and makes Will rest his cheek on Hannibal's thigh. Hannibal feeds him a grape at a time, his free hand around Will's throat so he can feel his sweet boy chewing and swallowing, idly petting over Will's dirty face, the streaks of come still marring his skin, feel his tender neck flex and shift beneath the scars and bruises.

He feeds Will half the cluster, and eats a few for himself, more than content to pet Will and purr for him as Will floats, giving the occasional twitch of overstimulation when Hannibal touches a particularly sore part of his neck. Then, he tilts his head, catches Hannibal's fingers with his teeth and sucks them into his mouth with a soft, wanton noise.

Hannibal swallows, and sets the bowl to one side, feeling himself start to harden again. "Alright, darling. Come here," he coaxes, and pulls Will upright, so he's flat on his back, and Hannibal stands on the floor at the side of the bed. He cups Will's face, curls his fingers in his sweaty hair, and feeds Will his cock which is still slick with Will.

Will moans, taking it easily, his throat bulging as Hannibal hardens and thrusts deep into his throat. His cock twitches against his belly, his thighs spread open as he slides his hands down, touching himself as Hannibal fucks his throat. He convulses when Hannibal presses deep, whines and bares his teeth, his mouth slick and leaking. His chest heaves, stomach sinking in, a series of short, gagged and muffled sounds spilling from him whenever Hannibal pulls back far enough to let him breathe.

Hannibal snarls, tipping his head back, and cradles Will's face with both hands, pulls out and tugs on Will's hair. "On your knees," he snarls, and Will falls to the floor, messy and graceless and yet so eager. Hannibal tilts his head up and feeds Will his cock again, groaning when Will takes him – not easily, but eagerly, moaning muffled and yet still so loud as Hannibal fucks in until Will's nose is crushed to his pubic hair.

One of Hannibal's hands flattens to Will's neck, to feel him swallow, feel his rushing pulse. He works the thumb of his other hand into the hollow of Will's jaw, between his parted teeth, coaxing him to spread wider. He does not warn Will, but Will knows. His eyes flash and he sucks in a hard breath through his nose, relaxes his jaw, and paws weakly at Hannibal's thighs.

Hannibal sits on the edge of the bed, spreads his legs for Will to kneel between them. Will lets out another filthy, ragged sound, moves like he's trying to choke himself on Hannibal's cock, his mouth so wet and burning hot.

Hannibal presses harder with his thumb, to the hinge of Will's jaw like forcing a stallion to take the bit, and snarls as his knot begins to swell. He works his hips tight to the seal of Will's lips, forcing his knot behind Will's teeth. Will shivers, reflexive tears spilling from the corners of his eyes, and clenches his fists in the bedspread on either side of Hannibal's hips. He rears up so the angle is better, chokes and locks his teeth behind Hannibal's knot.

Hannibal can't keep his eyes open, though he tries. He tips his head back and snarls to the ceiling as he starts to come, flooding Will's throat so heavily that Will gags, but cannot pull away. His cockhead rubs against the tender back of Will's throat, knot pressing to the ridges at the roof of his mouth, flattening his tongue. It's decadent, it's divine – it's utterly filthy, knotting Will's mouth.

Now Hannibal is the one affected, delirious from knotting his mate twice so close together, outside of Will's heat. He pets Will's hair gently, seeking to soothe him as he tries to keep his breathing steady. He stretches a leg out between Will's, until Will's cock can rut against his skin.

Will moans, weakly.

"Work yourself against me, darling," he purrs, smiling when Will groans, and does just that, grinding rough and uncoordinated against Hannibal's leg like he's little better than a dog. "That's it, darling – you're doing wonderfully, Will."

It doesn't take Will long before he's coming with a choked-off wail, spilling thick and hot and sweet over Hannibal's leg. He sags, gagging around the knot in his mouth, sobbing, his shoulders tense and rolling as he tries to pull away so he can breathe.

Hannibal flattens a hand over his nape, forcing him to calm, and purrs for him, seeking to soothe Will's frantic, animal-brain anxiety. "Just relax, sweet boy," he murmurs. Will swallows, trembling harshly, but doesn't try to pull away.

His knot deflates soon after and Will rears back, falling to his ass in a chaotic sprawl. He blinks up at Hannibal, wide-eyed, his mouth bruised and red.

Hannibal goes to him, embracing him tightly as Will shivers and clings to him, seeking now Hannibal's heat, his strength. Hannibal pushes him down onto the floor, purring loudly as he covers Will completely, taking advantage of Will's fucked-out, limp body, that doesn't fight him, doesn't try to pull away. He's a mess, wet with come and saliva and tears, smearing it on Hannibal's shoulder as Hannibal kisses his neck and pets down his back.

He licks over the particularly sore-looking mark on Will's neck he left, making sure to nuzzle the silvery mating scar underneath it, as Will whines and clings to him, shuddering as though freezing, the fire in him abruptly doused by Hannibal. He heaves in a series of short, ragged breaths, clawing back to awareness in Hannibal's arms. He is still caught in his storm, and Hannibal is his tether, to make sure he doesn't float away.

Hannibal cups his face, and kisses him deeply. "Good boy," he purrs, and Will sobs, broken open and hollow and aching, aching. "It's alright, darling, take your time. I'm here."

Will nods, and sags against him with another sweet noise, nosing at Hannibal's neck. "Cold," he rasps, his voice wrecked beyond recognition. Hannibal kisses his red cheek, nosing at the mess on his skin, and sighs.

"Let me clean you up," he suggests, and Will nods weakly, like his neck cannot hold the weight of his head. Oh, his sweet, beautiful mate – Hannibal will bathe him, next, let their bodies slide together intimately, surrounded by warm water and the mixed scents of themselves. After, they will warm Will's catch and feast together at their table.

Then, Hannibal will bring him back here, and make good on his promise to breed Will, like he asked. Children, like a mate, were never things he considered for himself, before Will. But Will always gets what he wants – Hannibal could never deny his sweet boy anything.

"Will," he breathes, and Will pulls his head back, lashes low, head ducked, as Hannibal pets and soothes his shaking. He bows down, to let their eyes meet, and Will smiles at him, sharp and off-kilter and wide. Oh, he knows exactly what he's doing. Always does.

Hannibal smiles, and guides him to the bath.


End file.
